Packet Loss
by KrysSaiyan
Summary: Optimus Prime attempts to negotiate Starscream back to the Autobots, but inadvertently reveals a secret about himself that's been kept from everyone. Plug-and-play, Transformers Prime universe.


**Warning:** Dub-con, but only sort of.  
><strong>Notes:<strong> This was written before the season 1 finale, so it takes place before then, but after _Partners_. The concept was based on a crack theory explaining Optimus Prime's lack of any discernible personality and his scripted, fortune-cookie speeches throughout the first season of TFP.

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><p>He found the seeker transformed, parked on an unused runway of an aviation museum just outside of Carson, Nevada. He looked out of place, a newer model amongst dusty relics, which made the whole attempt at hiding himself somewhat pointless, even if there hadn't been a tracking bug hidden in his internals. They implanted the device at the same time they'd locked the seeker's wings together, and Ratchet especially seemed to take delight in their captive's whimpered protests.<p>

Optimus Prime took no such pleasure, and it was for that reason that he tracked Starscream alone, in secret. The cover of night was a welcome relief, both from the sun and from curious human eyes. Out here, the only light was that of the stars and the planet's solitary moon. Luckily, they didn't need more than that.

It was surprising that Starscream allowed Optimus to approach, and even more surprising when the jet didn't merely take off into the night sky once the Autobot leader transformed out of vehicle mode and stood a scant few paces away. For a moment Optimus Prime thought the seeker was recharging, but then the jet unfolded, proving him wrong. Red optics flared suspiciously at him, and Optimus could not help but notice the way Starscream shifted uneasily, fidgeting with nervous energy.

"Why are you here, Optimus Prime?"

"To negotiate a truce," was the honest answer. Starscream scoffed.

"After that disaster? After being disrespected, dragged across the dirt, bound, beaten, and intimidated? _Please_. At least with Megatron I knew to expect no better!"

It was Optimus Prime's personal opinion that Starscream deserved everything that had happened to him. But there was some contradictory part of his processor that also pitied the jet. Starscream was an idiot, borderline incompetent, backstabbing, scheming little glitch, and Optimus could not be certain how much of that pleading had been an act… but the pathetic cowering triggered pity alongside disgust, and that couldn't be ignored any more than Starscream's value to their cause.

"I don't expect you to join the Autobots," Optimus corrected gently, ignoring Starscream's sniff of disdain and folded arms. "I only wish to have a partnership of sorts. For the good of our people, differences must be put aside."

"I'm not working with any of those brutes you call comrades," Starscream argued.

"Then," Optimus said after a moment's consideration, "You may work directly with me instead."

That seemed to throw Starscream off his game, and Optimus was subjected to a lengthy examination that he endured without so much as a twitch. He calculated how long it would take Starscream to consider his offer, and recover from the surprise. Once the timer ran out, the Autobot spoke again.

"No partnership is able to flourish if it is unequal. Providing me information puts you at considerable risk. I am, of course, willing to compensate you." That only earned him a longer session of being stared at, but it paid off when Starscream finally considered the offer seriously. Those red optics narrowed, the nervous stance relaxed slightly.

"… Compensate me with what?" Starscream asked, hesitant hope mixing with skepticism.

"Protection." Optimus was quick to answer. The jet snorted, sneering.

"I don't _need_ your protection, Autobot! I'm doing just fine on my own!"

Optimus only regarded him with a blank, patient look that had Starscream quieting uncertainly almost instantly.

"What we need is not always what we want, Starscream. I do not require the information you may provide," Optimus countered calmly. "But I desire it."

"Ah," Starscream purred. "You think you know what _I_ desire, Optimus Prime?"

Silence. All the projections and assumptions pointed towards stability and safety as Starscream's priority. If he was wrong-

His processing was interrupted by Starscream stalking forward, optics bright, to lean in close to Optimus. Their faces nearly touched, each feeling the heat radiating off the other.

"Why should I trust you?"

"He who cannot trust others-"

"Oh, knock off the poetic slag," Starscream scoffed, the predatory act dropped in favor of disdain. "It was a prelude anyway."

"A prelude to what?"

For a moment Optimus was not sure if Starscream believed his ignorance. The seeker certainly seemed skeptical, as if asking himself silently whether or not a bot could be that naive.

"To asking for an interface, of course," Starscream finally answered, voice slow and careful like thick oil. Optimus blinked and took a step back.

"Why?"

Starscream stepped forward. That wasn't a refusal. "Don't you agree that such an important… agreement, should be sealed with an interface? _You_ were the one just spouting idioms about trust, after all."

It was the truck's turn to be quiet. Starscream's proposal was startling, yes, but not entirely inappropriate. Cybertronians often used interfacing as a seal of trust between two or more mechs, in both public and private matters. It was a simple matter, facilitated by uplink cables that would transfer packets of data and programming back and forth between the participants. The act itself could be as clinical or intimate as desired, but it had very practical purposes. Information could be passed, of course, but more commonly it was used to spread new programming between participants. Whenever a new batch of code sprung from the systems of a Cybertronian, it was more than likely to be spread to the rest of the population within a short amount of time. It was evolution and vaccination in one, and it developed social connotations over time.

What Starscream suggested was reasonable, if a little extreme. But Optimus balked.

Starscream's reaction, like the rest of him, was swift. He bristled, armor flaring out and wings hiking upward, and took a step away from Optimus. "_Fine!_ If you find the idea so disgusting, I won't force you! Just go back to your Autobots and we'll forget about this whole thi-"

Optimus held out his connector, unspooled from an open panel in his torso. "That is not an option."

It stopped Starscream mid-rant, but more importantly, stopped the jet from leaving. Optimus hadn't been lying. Losing Starscream was not a viable option.

He waited patiently while Starscream fussed, fidgeted, and muttered until finally, revealed his own connector wire and approached again, hesitant this time and watching Optimus for any glimmer of deceit.

"You see the world as a mirror, don't you, Starscream?"

"It would make the world much handsomer, don't you agree?"

Bolstered by his own self-flattery, Starscream wasted no more time, grasping at the wire in Prime's hand with surprising care, and connecting the two together. Optimus braced himself, frame tense-

As soon as the connection was established, it was apparent that no amount of preparation would save him from the deluge of information pouring into him from Starscream's system. Optimus Prime's own belabored processor screamed, trying to process entirely too much data at once and unable to keep up with the semi-random nature of Starscream's mind.

Abruptly, it stopped. Optimus, vents and cooling fans running at full power under the stress, looked down at the connecting wire, expecting it to be removed from his own, retracted in disgust… It remained solidly linked, Starscream's sharp talons cradling the connecting point. Following that hand upwards to Starscream's face, disgust was the farthest thing from the seeker's mind. Those red optics were bright with interest, mouth curled into an awed smirk. Optimus suddenly would have preferred disgust.

"You're a _drone_," Starscream purred, and Prime's spark flared in alarm within its casing. He said nothing.

"You can't hide it," Starscream continued, testing again, sending a relatively small packet of data to Optimus. Even that was overwhelming, and Starscream seemed obscenely pleased at the way Optimus grunted quietly and flickered his blue optics. "That's… _very_ interesting. And _funny_! Do your Autobots know? Does Megatron?"

It roused Optimus enough to glare. "It doesn't matter," he growled. "The state of a bot's processor has no bearing on their spark's determination, loyalty-"

"Yes, yes," Starscream interrupted, waving his free hand dismissively. "Inside, we're all the same. Except we're not, Optimus Prime." A smile curled on that scheming face. "Optimus Prime. That's quite a grand name for a drone. Is it your original? Where is your master, pet?"

Optimus itched to draw his blaster. "… I believe we have fulfilled our obligations to an interface," he bit out, moving to withdraw his cable, only to be interrupted again with a frantic squawk.

"No no no!" Starscream rushed, looking genuinely dismayed. "My apologies. I'm used to _my_ drones. As their master, I can say and do whatever to them I like. I forget, at times, my manners around what belongs to others. Unless," those optics refocused, predatory, "you are temporarily without an owner?"

Optimus looked down at the hopeful face with nothing less than complete disgust. "I am servant to none so pitiful as yourself."

"A properly evasive answer, at least," Starscream grinned. "Alright, alright. No need to be offended. I wouldn't say we're _quite_ finished here." It took Optimus a moment to realize what he meant.

"… You want to overload," he surmised. Starscream nodded, looking almost giddy at the prospect. Several things clicked into place for the Autobot leader. "You have a… drone fetish."

"Very good," Starscream purred, stepping even closer. "You're quite intelligent. Whoever commissioned you did a very good job. I'm impressed."

A drone fetish. The words came automatically, dredged up from the days before the war, days before he had been Optimus Prime. "You're disgusting."

Starscream was unfazed. "Now," he simpered sympathetically, "who told you that interfacing with you was disgusting? They were quite rude."

Optimus was silent again. Starscream took advantage of that silence, bombarding him with another program that he was incapable of assimilating – this one was so incompatible that it was bounced back before Optimus could even begin to groan. Starscream's delighted moan was… lewd. Wrong. Slightly gratifying.

"I want _more_," Starscream demanded. Prime's satisfaction dimmed instantly. He frowned.

"You are aware, being a drone fetishist, that I am incapable of –"

"Oh, _that_ doesn't matter." Optimus was becoming weary of how often Starscream interrupted him. "Send me whatever your pathetic processor has. I like it. And please, don't call me a _fetishist_. You make me sound like Knockout. I prefer… enthusiast."

The seeker felt comfortable enough now to reach out and touch Prime's helmet, trailing a single clawtip along the vent slats in the middle of his forehead. "A pity," Starscream murmured. "Why ever would you choose this vehicle form? It's better than _some_ others, but still a ground model. You would be much… _more_, with wings."

"I prefer this model."

"Ah, a drone with _preferences_… my, you _are_ special, aren't you?"

Again, Optimus said nothing.

"Not very talkative though," Starscream muttered, ducking a little to play with the underside of Prime's chin, testing the area for sensitivity and finding, sadly, none.

"If… you would prefer…" Optimus ground out awkwardly. Starscream stopped and stared, looking more eager than ever at this sudden desire to please him. "Yesss?" he prompted. Optimus smothered the beginnings of a program that felt suspiciously like _pride_. "Words used indiscriminately often lose their meaning and value… however… if you wish, I will… endeavor…" Starscream's slow grin silenced him.

"You'll _endeavor_ to please me, is what you're saying?" the seeker attempted to clarify. "By talking more?" At Prime's nod, Starscream laughed. It was, at least, quietly amused and not quite as mocking as anticipated. Unfortunately it was accompanied by another caress, this one trailing down his arm with false tenderness.

"Don't bother," was Starscream's answer, much to Optimus Prime's private relief. "Just do what I ask of you. Understand?"

That was easier. Still, Optimus let a few moments pass, tense as ever, before giving a nod so slight that it was only Starscream's intent attention that caught it. As a "reward", the jet trickled a few lines of code down their connection.

It was so unexpected that Optimus made a surprised sound, jerking back. Starscream held his arm tightly and made a cooing, soothing sound, shushing him. The slow leak of code was more on level with what his processor was built to accommodate, and, for Optimus, it approximated what an interface between two full-status Cybertronians would have been like.

It was a sensation Optimus Prime had never experienced, and it left him reeling. Starscream was only too happy to keep up the tender assault, staring too-intently at the truck's reactions.

"It's new, isn't it?" Optimus wished, distantly, that Starscream would be quiet. "No one has ever done this with you, have they? _Such_ a waste…" He purred, leaning in so close that their armor was touching. "You have the loveliest reactions to the simplest data… _Other_ bots would ignore you. They _do_ ignore you, don't they?"

Optimus grunted, shivering without answering. Starscream didn't seem to need one.

"Well, I for one appreciate you," the seeker continued crooning, stimulating Optimus both internally and externally. Those claws finally found a sensitive seam, where his antennae and jaw met, and exploited it more as Optimus groaned under the assault. "Whatever anyone else has told you," Starscream murmured dreamily, obviously gleaning his own pleasure from this, "Disregard it." A little more complex coding this time that just bordered on pain for Optimus – he trembled, and the code just kept coming in a steady, relentless stream.

Starscream leaned in to murmur close to the Prime's helm. "They don't see your value, but _I_ do… beautiful servant… overload for me…"

Overwhelmed and unprepared, Optimus Prime's base programming took over. When a full-status Cybertronian gave an order – it was obeyed.

With a strangled shout, Prime's system overloaded, spitting out electricity and jumbled-up coding that batted feebly at Starscream's processor. For anyone else, it might have been unsatisfying… but Starscream keened quietly at it, pleasure pulsing behind those red optics.

It took Optimus a moment to recollect himself. By the time he did, Starscream was practically fondling his antennae, expression hungry.

"Call me…" the seeker panted, "call me master…"

But Optimus was not so susceptible to orders from Starscream anymore. That bit of programming was locked down once more. "You are no master," Optimus pointed out, coldly. He felt the seeker flinch.

"You don't have to _mean_ it," was the grating, whining response. Starscream was begging. "You said you would do anything!"

Optimus looked past Starscream's shoulder. He could feel the excited buzz of energy lurking still in Starscream's system.

"Please," the Autobot leader intoned dispassionately. "Master."

Like hitting a switch or executing a command script, the seeker stiffened and his cry echoed shrilly in the desert air.

The backlash hit Optimus like Megatron's fist, and nearly knocked him offline where he stood. But his vision cleared again after a klik and he was still upright, arms having raised to support the seeker draped uselessly across him.

"Starscream," he prompted gently, and shifted the jet in order to disconnect their cables. He tucked his own away before neatly spooling Starscream's cable back into its hatch. Starscream moved, but he was not going to rouse any time soon, by Optimus's estimations, so the Autobot commander carried the seeker to an empty hanger (the better to be hidden from the prying eyes of MECH when Starscream couldn't defend himself) and gently lowered Starscream to the ground.

Starscream shifted, coming out of the reboot slowly. He murmured a serial number. "57343."

Optimus Prime looked down at Starscream for a little while longer. But his window for escape was rapidly closing… and for once, he couldn't think of something poignant to say.

Starscream woke alone, with Optimus long gone. A message blinked in his inbox file.

_'If you wish to continue negotiations, you may contact me. We may meet at these coordinates. Peace, however difficult, is worth cultivating.'_

Starscream smirked, and closed the message.


End file.
